


even when the feeling fades (your love is enough)

by ghostmachine



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 11:00:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4664082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostmachine/pseuds/ghostmachine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"...because your heart was open water and you didn't have an anchor. Not anymore."</p><p>//</p><p>Based on a Tumblr prompt: Post 2x22 canon divergent where it is, in fact, enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	even when the feeling fades (your love is enough)

**Author's Note:**

> title from Jon Foreman's Your Love is Enough.

Shipwrecked. 

That's how you'd felt these past few weeks without her. Like moving an inch to the right or to the left made no difference because you were floating away regardless, because your heart was open water and you didn't have an anchor. Not anymore. 

And that's how it feels when you finally meet her eyes, finally, amber brown and shining with saltwater tears you wish you could kiss away. You wish. And so you fight back the current and the tide raging inside you and you ask her the one question you think every time you see her, every time you remember the soft skin of her forearms or the way she laughed into your mouth when you woke her with kisses. You ask her and you hold your breath like you've just held out the only lifeline you have. 

"Do you miss me?"

You're pretty sure your voice has never shaken so much, and you're pretty sure the room is spinning, and you're pretty sure you've never been this desperate. Your hands are trembling and you think now that drowning was the better option. And she's crying again and you want to drown in her sea, hers alone, but you're stuck in your own. (Aren't they both salt and bone?)

Her lips quiver and you're consumed with the desire the steady them with your own; it quells the anticipation of the moment, the anxiety that sloshes around in your chest as she exhales deeply. 

"Like someone cut a hole in me."

A simile to your metaphor. It almost makes you smile. Almost. You hadn't thought of it like that, like a piece of you was missing. You'd been so focused on feeling stranded and alone that you'd forgotten you were the one who left her behind. And you wonder why she doesn't feel adrift, how this whole thing between you could feel less like a shipwreck and more like surgery. 

So you look at her. Really look, like you might never see her again. And you try to figure out why you can't be enough for her, try to see it in her eyes, the place where your love doesn't fit. But she whispers your name and it's like it belongs in her mouth, like she's your harbor and she signals the only safety you'll ever know. It seems endless, this ocean that separates you; it seems endless until suddenly she's washing up on your shore, collapsing into you, burying her face in your neck. 

Instinctively, your arms wrap around her, one hand tangling in her hair. You feel her tears falling on the bare skin of your collarbone, and her shoulders shake in rhythmic waves. And she's always asking you to save her, but she doesn't know that right now, she is the hero. That she is always the hero because you are lost, helplessly so, when you're not touching her. And you want to be enough for her to save. You want to be enough for her to save. And she's close enough to do it, she's so close. Salvation cradled in your arms, but it's her choice. She can stay, or she can leave you stranded, but you have to ask because the water has risen too high and you know you need her now or never. 

"Please," you whisper into her hair, and she's still crying and you think you've made such a wreck of everything. "Please let me come home." And she knows where home is, knows you've found it before and foolishly let it go. She stills for a moment, the tide receding, and then she pulls back to look at you with red eyes. You're anchored here in this moment with her. 

When she finally leans her forehead against yours, presses a slow kiss and an "okay" to the corner of your mouth, you revel at the place where your ocean meets hers, one blending into the other. You revel at the feeling of feeling enough, and you feel, without thinking, that she is your shore.


End file.
